


Coda: Please Come Home

by AnnaKnitsSpock



Series: Please Come Home Series [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Bottom Spock, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Star Trek: Generations, Star Trek: Generations Fix-It, Top Kirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 13:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaKnitsSpock/pseuds/AnnaKnitsSpock
Summary: Six months after rescuing Old Jim from the Nexus, Jim and Spock take leave on New Vulcan to visit their reunited counterparts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well it took me nearly a year, but I'm finally done with this little epilogue. Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback on this story since last Christmas. This was beta-read by the always brilliant [bittergreens](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bittergreens/profile).

_Six Months Later_

Jim let the heat of the New Vulcan sun, burning as it dipped below the horizon, sink into his skin. He was sleepy and content in his lounger on Spock’s porch, his second cup of scotch half empty on the table beside him. 

From somewhere deep in Spock and Kirk’s little desert residence, Jim heard his counterpart laugh, and an answering sensation of amusement and satisfaction ruffled Spock’s side of the bond. Jim grinned and glanced over at the old Vulcan stretched out in the opposite lounger.

“Can you feel our other selves flirting?”

“I can,” Old Spock confirmed, not bothering to open his eyes. Jim could see the soft little smile on his mouth. 

Jim closed his eyes too, the scotch making its way through his blood to fuzz in his brain. He mentally curled around the bond like a tipsy, sleepy cat, and felt the warm impression of Spock’s affection. 

“Bonds are awesome,” he mumbled, and heard Old Spock chuckle softly.

“Yes they are. I am sure Spock is quite pleased that you think so.”

“Is yours different than it was the first time?”

There was a long pause while Spock considered, but finally he said. “No. It is not inherently different. I am a different man, and our circumstances are new. But what is between us is…”

“Constant?” Jim supplied, recalling a time in the elder Vulcan’s bed more than ago when Spock had said essentially the same thing. 

Spock’s eyes opened and focused on him, and Jim would have bet a lot of credits that he was remembering the same thing. 

“Indeed.”

“Spock?”

“Yes, _pi'khart-lan_?” 

“Are you happy now?”

After a few long moments, Spock reached out his hand. Jim dutifully got up and took it, sitting on the edge of Spock’s recliner and looking into his soft, lined face. 

“I am, Jim. Happiness is something you gave back to me. I want you to believe me when I say that.”

“Sure. I guess.”

“No. None of that. You saved me, Jim. As you always do.”

They stared at each other for a heartbeat before Jim found himself slipping down and curling into the old man’s embrace. It had been a long time, but it was no less familiar. Or rather, it was _more_ familiar now; now that Jim could compare it to the feeling of his own Spock, which was both slightly different and entirely the same. 

“What was it like?” he whispered. “When you saw him again?”

Spock didn’t answer for a long time, as if he was trying to find the words to express his answer and couldn’t. Finally he said, “May I show you?”

“Yes, please.”

Spock lifted his bony hand to Jim’s meld points. His fingertips were more papery than Jim’s Spock’s; rougher and less agile but slower, gentler. 

“My mind to your mind—”

\---

As he and Jim made their way back from their counterparts’ bonding ceremony, Spock was overcome with utter exhaustion, as if his mind and body had been scraped hollow. Jim steered him through the door with a gentle hand on his back, murmuring, “Go lie down, Spock. I’ll be in in a minute.”

Spock looked at him doubtfully, a faint current of anxiety and doubt running through the bond. Jim smiled sadly and pulled Spock to him. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said against Spock’s ear. “I promise. Not ever again. Now go lie down before you _fall_ down. I’m just going to wash up a bit and then I’ll be right in.” 

Spock dragged himself into the bedroom and shrugged out of his robes, letting them fall to the floor in a cloud of dust and sand picked up in the _koon-ut_. He didn’t even bother to deposit them in the recycler or put on a fresh sleeping robe; he simply climbed under the light sheet covering his bed and collapsed against the pillows. 

A numbness was beginning to overtake his brain, the sheer surreality of today’s events leaving him senseless. He did not know what to feel—there was relief, certainly, but even with the bond restored it was so difficult to accept that Jim was _truly_ back with him, and his relief was tentative in the extreme. 

He allowed himself to float under the rim of the bond, submerging his consciousness in an attempt to convince himself of the presence of Jim’s mind in his own. Higher thought leeched out of him and he drifted, drifted. 

A surge of Jim’s thoughts and a hand against his stomach roused Spock from his trance. Jim had gotten into bed beside him and was propped up on an elbow, looking down into Spock’s face. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling softly. “I thought maybe you fell asleep.”

“Not exactly,” Spock said, but could not bring himself to explain further. His eyes found Jim’s and he stared into the warm, shifting colors. The shock of the other Jim’s eyes had always been particularly disturbing to Spock—their sharp, cold blue was a constant and painful reminder that he was not quite the right Jim. 

They suited the young human—he was himself sharper, chilled to his core by mistreatment, as fragile and brittle as thin ice. Spock imagined that his counterpart loved those eyes, for in them were the blueprints of young Jim’s mind and how he needed to be cared for. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jim asked. Spock’s thoughts were so jumbled and disoriented that Jim probably couldn’t untangle them. 

“Your eyes,” he said truthfully. “And how much I prefer them to your counterpart’s.” 

Jim leaned down to kiss him, and only then did Spock realize that his body was flush against Jim’s own. He hadn’t noticed that Jim had also taken off his clothes, but the expanses of their skin were now touching, Jim’s arms firmly around him. 

Spock pulled away just slightly and took in Jim’s body fully for the first time. It was the same as looking into his eyes—Jim was all warmth and give where his younger counterpart was hard, yielding only for the purpose of breaking. A surge of whimpering lust overtook Spock, surprising his exhausted brain, and Jim smiled when the sensation poured in through the bond. 

Jim crawled up over him and Spock suddenly found his hands all over his husband’s body, tracing his broad shoulders, the downy hair on his chest, his plump belly, his thick hips. When Jim’s hand came up to cup his cheek, Spock belatedly realized that he was crying again, trembling between Jim and the mattress. He met Jim’s eyes helplessly.

“I am sorry, Jim. I am so—” 

But Jim silenced his apologies with a firm kiss. “Stop that now. You’re not allowed to be sorry for _anything_.”

“You are beautiful,” Spock whispered. Spock was still so, so tired, his mind rattled and his control in tatters. But he needed. He needed Jim within him in every possible way. He needed to get Jim inside his own body and mind, where he could hold him, trap him, keep him. 

Jim’s hands had started wandering against Spock’s papery skin, his touch firm now, protective. 

“Look at you,” he whispered, eyes roving over Spock’s body, as hot and reverent as they had been so many, many years ago.

Spock remembered the first time—how could he ever forget? Two young men, not nearly as young as their counterparts, but still young, hesitant. Spock full of anxiety and uncertainty, but Jim’s eyes glittering just as they were now, playful and adoring and reassuring. 

Above him, Jim paused and his hand came up to run through Spock’s hair. “Sweetheart,” he said gently, “Are you up to this? This doesn’t have to happen right now.” 

Spock tuned back into his own body—it was difficult maintaining his awareness of anything but Jim—and realized that every muscle he could identify was trembling, his breath coming in short gasps. He consciously slowed his respiration and closed his eyes, trying to find a sense of calm. 

“Jim, I _need_ this right now, but– I cannot… are you able at this time to…” 

Jim’s lips pressed against his jaw. “To take care of you?”

“Yes,” Spock whispered. Jim’s thumb came up to rub against his cheekbone.

“Of course I am. I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life, Spock.”

Spock choked out another trembling sob. Jim just kissed him and went back to running his hands over every scrap of skin until his fingers found their way down to Spock’s penis, circling it lightly. Spock was achingly hard for him, the primal Vulcan need to claim and be claimed igniting his last reserves of energy. He swallowed thickly and Jim chuckled.

“I know it’s difficult, Spock, but try to relax. I’ve got you.” 

Spock closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths as Jim’s grip tightened, coaxing lubricant from Spock’s sheath and up his cock with a satisfied hum. Suddenly Jim’s face was gone, but before Spock could panic he felt that hot, safe human mouth close around him and he bucked up into it, curling a bony hand into Jim’s hair. 

Jim sucked him exactly as he liked—Spock had nearly forgotten how he preferred to be fellated—but for Jim little time had passed since they were together, since these activities were practically their daily routine. For a moment, Spock could have been anywhere in time, back on the _Enterprise_ a hundred years ago. He closed his eyes and he was 39 years old, fumbling against Jim’s body in the captain’s quarters, everything light and full of promise, before he fled to Gol like a spooked horse. 

Probably sensing many of his thoughts, Jim’s fingers came up to rub comfortingly against Spock’s stomach, and Spock tried to breathe and bring himself back to the present.

Jim’s mouth slipped away and then Jim was urging Spock’s old legs up, pressing kisses against his perineum before dipping his tongue into Spock’s hole, wet from the lubricant drooling down from his sheath. Spock threw his head back and keened, both hands now clutching Jim’s head like an anchor. Jim moaned in pleasure at the taste and Spock felt cherished in a way he hadn’t for so long. Probably because of Spock’s utter exhaustion, Jim did not take his time, and soon two fingers had slipped into Spock along with Jim’s tongue. 

Jim gently worked Spock open, easing his muscles into relaxation around the welcome intrusion of Jim’s fingers. His mouth worked in tandem, such a sweet, wet warmth around and inside this part of Spock that had never belonged to anyone else. 

When he was satisfied that Spock was prepared, Jim rose up over Spock again, kissing him with Spock’s own taste on his lips. He lowered Spock’s legs to the bed gently—there would be time later, when Spock was stronger, for the kind of sex they used to have, Spock’s legs slung over Jim’s shoulders while Jim pounded him so hard, that sweet-smug look on his face at how easily he could take Spock apart. But for now he ran his hands softly up the insides of Spock’s legs, rubbing his hole with a thumb before lining his cock up. 

Suddenly nervous, Spock stammered, “Jim, I– I have not been the recipient of this act for quite some time.”

Jim grinned. “Oh, the other me isn’t much of a top? Gee, what a shock.” He leaned down and kissed Spock firmly, the hint of his tongue sneaking into Spock’s mouth. “Don’t worry, Spock. I remember perfectly well how to do this to you. I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will,” Spock whispered, his hands finding their way to grip at Jim’s plush shoulders. 

Jim pushed in slowly. For a moment, Spock worried he was going to spiral straight into an unexpected _plak-tow_ —with Jim fully inside him, Spock’s skin seemed to light on fire, every nerve singing and sparking with relief and need. 

But Jim’s cool hand was on his face, his lips were against Spock’s mouth, he was murmuring, “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’ve got you. I’m here, Spock. I’m here.”

He started to move at a rapidly increasing pace, obviously aiming for a short encounter so that Spock could rest. He hovered close over Spock’s body, their faces touching, occasionally kissing Spock’s mouth, his cheek, his ear. 

Spock’s eyes closed and all he could do was feel—feel the overwhelming fullness of Jim’s body in his, Jim’s mind in his; feel the sorrow of his separation from this man, the almost hysterical joy of being with him again. 

Spock had spent so much of his life trying not to feel—not to feel anything about this human in particular—and by now he was tired. Tired of trying, tired of failing, tired of doing anything but opening his whole self to the sparkling, all-consuming bond between himself and his erstwhile captain. 

Blindly, he found Jim’s mouth, still clinging so hard to Jim’s shoulders that bruises were probably blooming under his fingers. Jim kissed him back and through the bond poured all of his reassurance, his devotion, his blinding, breathtaking _love_ and Spock came, his eyes flying open to meet Jim’s as he shouted helplessly. Jim grinned and the skin crinkled around his warm, honey-colored eyes, and then he buried his face in Spock’s shoulder with a gasp, the flood of his come in Spock’s body such a sublime, coveted heat. 

Spock was vaguely aware of Jim slipping out of him and disappearing, but before he could panic a warm cloth was cleaning him and Jim’s lips were against his temple. 

“Sleep, love,” Jim whispered. 

“Not until you are lying with me,” Spock mumbled, which was met with a soft chuckle. Jim crawled in beside him with a groan, turning Spock gently onto his side and tucking himself up against the length of his body. 

“Do not ever leave me again,” Spock commanded as sleep started creeping into his mind, his old bones.

He managed to remain conscious until he heard Jim’s emphatic, “Never, Spock. _Never_.” 

The bond floated between them and Spock drifted, drifted. 

\---

Spock slipped carefully, tenderly, out of Jim’s mind. He seemed incapable of melding with this young Jim without making him cry, but what else could be expected? Spock possessed the full experience of what Jim’s life could be—the beginning, the middle, the end, the other possible ends—the weight of what his fledgling love would mean for him, for his Spock, for the galaxy. 

Jim sat up, overwhelmed, and Spock reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Do you understand, Jim?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah. Or, not really. I don’t know.”

For a long while, they were silent, Spock running his thumb against Jim’s face, fingers through his hair. 

Eventually Jim said, “Do you remember the night we broke up?”

“I still object to that term—”

“Spock.”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“You said we were just replacements for each other, because neither of us could have what we wanted. I get what you meant, but I think you were wrong. You mean so much to me. _You_ do.”

Spock traced a finger over one of Jim’s eyebrows, watched the dying sunlight flash in his fluorescent eyes. 

“As always, Jim, your emotional insight was superior to mine. You are precious to me. _You_ are. But I think it is simpler than either of us have admitted—you, myself, our husbands, we are only two people. There are differences, of course, because we have existed in different conditions. But we are essentially the same notes along the same scale. We are a refrain the universe does not seem to want to stop singing.”

Jim stared at him for a few moments more before he leaned down to kiss him, such a sweet, young taste in his mouth. 

“Well! Should we come back, boys?”

Jim opened one eye and found his counterpart standing over them, amused, Jim’s own husband slightly behind him and looking only the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

He and Spock broke gently apart, but their fingers had tangled up at some point and Spock squeezed Jim’s hand. 

“Certainly not, t’hy’la.” 

He rose gracefully and pulled his bondmate to him by the hips, Old Jim laughing and slinging his arms around Spock’s neck, whispering something in his ear.

Jim smiled apologetically at Spock and held out his arm. Spock didn’t hesitate to join him on the lounger, head on Jim’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Jim said quietly. “He was telling me about what it was like when he saw his Jim again. It got pretty emotional.”

“Apologies are unnecessary. Your state of mind is quite clear in the bond.”

Jim could feel Spock’s state of mind, too—understanding and approving, content. Barely a trace of jealousy. He smiled and glanced at their counterparts, arms around each other against the orange and red sky.

Old Spock was smiling—not his usual tiny smile but a true grin, with a little bit of teeth even—lost in his bondmate’s eyes, drowning in him. Old Jim reached up and put his hands on Spock’s face, telling some quiet joke that made Spock close his eyes and shake his head with a little laugh. Jim saw his hands tighten on Old Jim’s hips, probably too tight, like he was afraid Jim was going to disappear again, and the only thing that could stop it were Spock’s tired old hands. Old Jim seemed to notice the same thing, because he took Spock’s hands off his hips and tucked them against his own chest before wrapping Spock up tight in his arms. 

Jim rubbed his cheek absentmindedly against Spock’s hair. Would their future look like that? Would their bond leave such a crazy imprint on the galaxy, on countless worlds? 

Maybe. 

Jim watched Old Spock adjust his head against his bondmate’s shoulder so that he could look at the younger couple. He met Jim’s eyes, his expression so soft. Even though they weren’t actually touching, with his own Spock’s head against his shoulder it almost felt like they were. Jim looked and looked and looked at this man he had loved, did love, would always love, and the science that separated one universe from another fell slowly away, until Jim wasn’t sure where he and Spock ended and their counterparts began.

Spock sensed the tangle of his thoughts and in Jim’s mind, his quiet voice said, “Parted from me and never parted.”

Jim smiled. “Never and always touching and touched.”


End file.
